This poem is written from 2 separate perspectives of 2 different people sitting in a cafe. Oftentimes, in our beautiful world, inner and outer imperfections can become calming, comforting and even uplifting.
I see her in the cafe She’s sitting on her own Like me A cup of coffee Rests in front of her Lines huddle in the space between her brows They’re furrowed now In some private grief or anxiety Only her cup knows for sure As she stares into the darkness within Her lips tremble for a moment Just a bit. She takes a quick sip Of the vitalising potion Swallowing her emotions Down they both go The sadness and the coffee Lingering on the inside now I feel my heart go out to her It hovers around her table Softly, silently, wordlessly I want to follow too But we are strangers It wouldn’t do She looks up. She sees me I smile and then I look away guiltily Outside the window And then down at my own cup of tea
I see her looking at me Just a glance, a little look Then away from the nook I am sitting at But that little exchange is everything Even in that whisper Of a gaze, that smile I feel her compassion Shimmering around me Gently, silently, comfortingly I look at her as she sits there In her wheelchair Reminding me that frailty Is never on the outside Her own courage shining bright Has skipped across the room Transforming into a tenderness Shattering my spell of gloom My heart lifts and wafts out to her I want to follow after But we are strangers I turn back to my cup And I smile I hesitate just for a while And then I beam across the room to her My heart now light with gratefulness Lit up by a beautiful stranger
My book of poetry and essays SHIMMERING SCRAPS OF POETRY AND MADNESS will be available in bookstores across Pakistan and Sri Lanka at the end of December 2022.
FRIENDS IN SL can get their copies TODAY from the Jam Fruit Tree bookstore on Galle road in Colombo via call/ WhatsApp to 072-7268078.
Shimmering Scraps is a collection of poems and essays, rumblings of the heart about the joys, the truths, the pain, the controversies, the funniness and the wonder that criss cross all our lives in one way or another.
The book is divided into five sections: Joy, Foot-in-the-mouth, Truth, Hope and Serenity. The Truth and Foot-in-the-Mouth categories are especially brazen and raw. As with most such uninhibited writing, the objective is to assail the sensibilities and even if just for a while, to look the truth right in its jaundiced eye. The other three sections are largely whimsical and uplifting very much like walking through a zen corridor, which I’m hoping, will also soften the sensory assault of the former two segments.
I looked at her over my coffee mug Stealing silent glances Looking her way Then looking away My heart had set up a regular cacophony As I stared at her secretly From above the rim of my cup That I brought to my lips to sip, The adrenaline instead making me chug She sat there, serene and beautiful An ode to perfection itself Between the gulps I watched and drooled Oh lord! I felt like such a fool! I took in a ragged breath I had to calm myself I had to let the feeling pass To wring it, wash it from my heart I had to fight, wrest my hungry eyes Off that whetter of fantasies, that queen of delight That mesmerizing, will-defying Passion Fruit Tart
She bubbles and she froths She spills over on the table cloth She frolics and she plays My steaming mug of latte
Voluminous creamy lace Hiding her caffeinated face Her heart swells in youthful glee On the table in front of me.
I read; wait a while; turn a page In latte time, it’s already middle age The lace is tattered, burnt skin showing through The passionate heat has left the brew
Mindful of its waning charm, I grip My mug of latte to take a sip I grimace, the perfect moment has passed I get a mouthful of tepid coffee, alas! She’d sat before me, in gracious state I ignored the moment, realized too late
And so it is with so much in our lives Rich with serendipity, with do-overs rife But we sit back ignoring the universe Rueing our luck - ‘Our fate is cursed!’ Opportunities come and pass us by ‘It’s just God’s will’ we blame it on high
But here’s the truth, simple and clear The passivity, the stupor is unfounded fear So as each opportubity bubbles and froths Onto your life’s pristine table cloth Know this is your moment to make your own Reach out to receive it before it has flown.
Following from “Creatures of the Park” (link attached below), this piece is inspired by my varied experiences at the 2 or 3 cafes I frequent in Colombo city. As with my regular evening walk, I am also a devout tea and latte aficionado. And as a creature of habit, I do tend to absorb the full gamut of gastronomic, service and atmospheric experiences at the handful of places I go to. So here is my affable ode to the characters who, like me, are also found at the oft-frequented coffee places around town.
Angst, amusement and even downright vexation Are some sentiments that have inspired this particular narration Because when my adrenaline is not racing haphazardly around Yours truly can’t weave verse or prose that is profound So here’s a bit of a congenial ramble About coffee shop folks and their queer, quirky angles
The first of this set that I chanced to espy Was the gaggle of ladies who meet over coffee and pie They are genteel and smiling and conversing lightly Of Ruwani’s boyfriend and Andrew’s new-found sobriety Of weddings and parties and stand-out memorial services Of yoga class affairs and other sexagenarian caprices
Following sharply on the last set’s heels Is the would-be Romeo who’s eternally spinning his wheels While on his regular tarriance through the cafe He’ll go through the motions, happily epitomising the cliche-Sauntering gait, wandering eyes, obnoxiously loud! Because how else would this Adonis be noticed by the crowd? This one evokes both frustration and pity Deluded sense of self; diddly squat in the mental kitty
This next one (my favourite) is quite off the charts The 93 year old with tremendous love in his heart! He’s delicate and fragile and yet undauntingly sure Of his libidinous vigor and marvellous allure He speaks in faint tones, each gossamer vein outlined “I want to make love to you”, he solemnly opines. [True story!]
There is also the resident troop of servers With personas as varied as their gelato flavours There’s the hero who averts a gastronomic disaster And the shrinking violet who couldn’t have disappeared faster You’ll also see “Lurch” on his tropical vacation Waiting tables, no doubt, for some fiscal augmentation (Who’d have believed the fiendish frugality Of the profusely gilded Addams Family!) There’s also Happy and Dopey and Sneezy and Bashful- Each cafe with its own quirky take on the fairytale.
The likes of me, of course, continue to be The nose-in-the-book kind, with the-tail-on-the-seat Looking up only to rest whining muscles Perennially ensnared in the Introvert’s social tussle: Latte on standby, with napkins and spoon I’m in a world of my own in the bustling tea room
The rest of the coffee shop throng is assorted The foodies, the guzzlers, the loners, the courted The suited and booted, the flip-flopped, the Collared* A theatrical cycle of life streaming onward This gamut of movement, that with spirit is rife Is what makes modest coffee shops larger than life And so I continue to frequent tea rooms and cafes To delight in the milieu and lacteous lattes.
* Collared: priests, monks and other caffeine-relishing clergymen.
As the pandemic marches on, this is more true than ever. I have felt impelled to write this piece mostly because we have all now, as a planet, lived through a year of the Covid-19 blight. All 7 billion lives have, in some measure, been affected, afflicted or completely upended. And the sobering truth is that there is no real end in sight yet. These past 8 months have also seen families not only devastated by the virus in many parts of the world, but crippled also by the general economic slowdown/ shutdown.
We in the South Asian belt have been relatively more fortunate with regard to our pandemic mortality rates. The conjectures and theories on how the delevloping world is coping so peculiarly well with the disease are varied and many. Call it providential or karmic or the universe finally lining up all the fortuitous constellations in our Asian skies – that is how it is and for that we are grateful. Grateful while still being aware of the economic ravages wrought on the healthy but the vulnerable; the uninfected but the reduced; the vigorous but the poor. Which brings me to the mission of this piece – the importance of being kind. Of engaging in little everyday gestures of generosity to alleviate in some part the struggles of the less fortunate members of our communities.
Start with your neighbourhoods.
⁃Give just a little bit extra to the tuk tuk driver who’s been whisking you about town (or running errands for you) through blazing hot days and even the errant tropical storm. Even if you don’t get into his carriage much or at all these days, tip him for all his gracious service and for persevering still, to earn a decent living despite bleak business.
⁃Patronise your local fruit and vegetable sellers and your standalone neighbourhood grocery stores rather than the larger franchised establishments. The balance sheets of the latter will survive a year or so of beleagured business; the former, however, will be forced to shut down their doors permanently, changing the fortunes of entire nuclear and extended families forever.
⁃ Even if you’re of the genteel old school of thought, for whom the hawkers of malodorous incenses, oddball children’s story books and car cleaning paraphernalia are persona non grata in the general milieu of roadside traffic, be kind. At the traffic lights, despite yourself, roll down and buy some incense, buy a book or buy a cleaning product. Be gracious with your privilege.
⁃ With restaurants and bars in operational flux, if you do go out, tip generously. For most of the kitchen and serving staff, your service gratuity makes all the difference between being able to send a child to school or not.
⁃ For those that are now enjoying, in the safety of their homes, the gastronomic pleasures of Italy, Pakistan or the entire junk food spectrum of the Americas, tip the delivery staff openheartedly. For many of them, their endless google mapped excursions around the city are second and third jobs taken on to supplement incomes made ever more meagre by the pandemic.
⁃Be kinder to your domestic staff, those consummate companions one can’t do without in keeping the household engine well-oiled and chugging along immaculately, peaceably. It’s also no secret that a lot of domestic bliss is owed to their inimitable roles in our daily lives!
⁃ And last but not least, our usually bustling towns and cities are also home to a multitude of scavenging animals. These urban-bred packs of stray felines, canines and even a sizeable number of the avian population depend on the scraps and oddments of the teeming human millions going about their usual day. That food source has become unreliable at best. Do your bit by putting out some water for our creature cohabitants, and food if you’re blessed with an outdoors.
These neigbbouhood civics, in my mind, are fundamental and therefore incumbent on all of us. They are the very basic protocols of social decency and community living, but have over time, and as i look around me, lost their place in our intuitive DNA. And hence, as with so many other virtuous but faded/ lapsed communal interactions in our lives, the need to recall, restore and revitalise is important.
And so, this petition is meant as just a little scratching of the surface to that human part that is intrinsic to all of us bad eggs, good eggs, tough eggs, quirky eggs and all.
I’ll leave you with a cheeky little refrain as a gentle reminder of the compassionate beings we really are, and for when we lose that thread now and then in the frenzied rush of life.
I was a hard boiled egg Less sugar, more spice It’s taken a pandemic To remind me to be nice!
Ranga and Travis at the Sugar Bistro, CrescatThe resident cat family at the Habarana LodgeA tufted grey langur resting a while in the balcony
I sit here, encircled in my routine, My safety net spread around me like a bright yellow blanket. The sameness, the everydayness keeping it close, gently embracing. I’ve gulped down the first half of my mug of coffee So now I’m surrounded also, by a warm cloak of caffeine. I stretch inwardly with the languidness of a just-fed, just-loved cat.
I look outside at the recently blue sky Where the clouds have now gathered in heavy eskers of grey The suddenness of the assailment, the eclipsing of the sun, Breaking the spell of my Constancy Ritual. I sip on the second half of my mug of coffee, rhythmically bolstering my caffeine haze Even as the sudden coolness of the breeze loosens my other subliminal layers of warmth.
Then the rain begins to fall. Free, fluid, gleaming, Skipping down the sidewalk; dancing in eddying pools on the street below. And i stand up and stretch with the lustiness of the Alive and the Kicking. I reach out and catch the falling raindrops in the trough of my open palm; I reach out and seize the day.